


Date Night

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [32]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Saturday nights were for satin slips under her skirt, loose blouses that showed off the tiny curve she had, and on cold nights, sweaters she didn’t need a coat with. They were for her fancy heels - not even the ones she wore on show nights. But ones she could dance in, whether they stayed twenty minutes or an hour.





	Date Night

**Title** : Date Night  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Timeframe:** Prelude to a Kiss (season 7)  
**Pairing:** Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt  
**Rating:** For Adults Only my friends. Partly for sex. Partly for sweet, stupid romance that makes you all gooey and understand why these two are a pairing to be celebrated.  
**A/N:** I’m sorry, but does anyone actually buy Corky and Miles? Not even Diane does.  
**Disclaimer:** I make no money from this. But, should Diane and co want to know how Murphy and Peter should have turned out …

 **Summary:** _Saturday nights were for satin slips under her skirt, loose blouses that showed off the tiny curve she had, and on cold nights, sweaters she didn’t need a coat with. They were for her fancy heels - not even the ones she wore on show nights. But ones she could dance in, whether they stayed twenty minutes or an hour._

Saturday had, somehow, become their date night. Friday they both tended, strangely, to work late. Monday after Now and Tomorrow aired she would try meet up with him and they’d grab takeout, if they had the time. Wednesday after FYI, whenever he was in town, he did his best to wait for her in her dressing room or her office and join them at Phil’s. Either happened maybe 40% of the time.

But over the last eighteen months, Saturday night had become their thing. Without any hammered out “we need to do this” and without any “let’s make sure this works” it just happened between them. It started simply, with his sheepish “I’m in town for 3 days” - although that first date night had involved him also bonding with Avery, which still warmed her heart when she let herself think about it. Over time, it had evolved into dinner, sometimes a movie, usually dancing, almost always a drive up along the bay where they would find an overlook and they’d make out and talk and laugh until they sped for her place, relieved Eldin (and now Reena) and fell into bed.

Spontaneity was for just about any other night, given how work or life with Avery played out. Romantic consistency for Saturdays. It was a night for his favorite perfume, the one she’d been wearing when he’d first kissed her. For her garter belts and thigh high stockings he would unclasp slowly at the end of the night.

“You still wear these,” he’d groaned into her thighs the first night she’d worn them for him. He’d run his hands up her leg, steadying her, pressing his lips against the bare skin above the lace.

“What,” she’d teased, putting her foot on his thigh so he could unclasp the fabric and roll it down her leg. “Another reminder that your girlfriend is literally from a different generation than you?”

He’d only rolled his eyes. “Last I checked we were both boomers, you know,” he’d teased her. “And if being seven years older than me means that I get to see your legs in these? I’m just mad I waited so long to kiss you.”

Damn he was good.

Saturday nights were for satin slips under her skirt, loose blouses that showed off the tiny curve she had, and on cold nights, sweaters she didn’t need a coat with. They were for her fancy heels - not even the ones she wore on show nights. But ones she could dance in, whether they stayed twenty minutes or an hour.

Peter always showed up with flowers - roses or orchids, depending on what was fresh. Unless she picked him up, and then she’d taken to bringing small trinkets he would enjoy. Usually toys like the ones he liked to steal from her office.

He always wore a tie, a jacket, and his shoes were shined. He always smelled of that cologne that made her toes curl.

Consistency in romance.

He was gone so often, and half the time when he was in town, she wasn’t. So Saturday nights mattered. At 8:00, his hand would slide into hers and he’d pull her close for the lingering kisses she loved so much.

She knocked on the door to his condo, a toy lobster in one hand, and waited for him to pull her inside. He did, wrapping his arms around her, and tossing the lobster aside. She was fine skipping dinner if he wanted to keep moving his hand up her thigh like that. Her only regret was that her interview with Senator Jackson had run long, as had her editing session, and she hadn’t had time to change before coming over. Black pants and flats would have to do for tonight.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as she broke for air. His back, which he’d thrown out more than once in his treks across deserts and jungles, had been acting up recently. But as he pulled her back to him, she could tell he was feeling better.

“A long massage,” he grinned, his hands sliding down to her hips, “and time in the sauna, some spent today relaxing with a book instead of running around, and that magic of yours from last night … I’m all better.”

She blushed. How could he still make her blush? His hand tangled in her hair again and the kiss ended with her up against the wall, one leg up around his hip. “Peter?” she moaned, pressing her hips toward his.

“Yeah, Murphy?”

“If I’m not mistaken, this is how you hurt your back the other day. I’m flattered for the attention, but I’d rather have you not in agonizing pain.”

He laughed and pushed back, pulling her off the wall as he did so. “You have a point.”

She kissed his cheek and wandered to the couch, sinking into it. If she ever got up the guts to ask him to move in, she was making sure he brought this couch. “We can order in, right?” She sighed dramatically, crossing one leg over the other as she stretched out.

“Don’t we have reservations?” He was at the mirror, adjusting his tie and running his fingers through his hair. Really, one of her favorite things to do was watch him get ready, but she was sure as hell going to tease him about it later.

“Yeah, well …” she grinned. “I mean, Reena’s got some great night planned for Avery and I’m already on the couch …”

“Nice try. It’s been two weeks since I took you dancing.”

She looked at him from her place on the cushions. “Peter?”

“Yeah?” He turned and met her gaze and the quirk on his lips told her everything she needed to know about how he was feeling.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” He asked, coming over to take her hand.

She linked their fingers. “All of this. You’re an amazing guy and sometimes I still pinch myself to think you’re dating me.”

He kissed her hand. “Same goes for me,” he said, smiling. “Now, am I going to wiggle that sweater off of you, or are we going dancing?”

“Just in it for the sex,” she teased, standing up.

“Well.” He grinned. “Yes.”

She kissed him, hard and quick, and went for her purse. “Just for that, I’m driving.”

“You always drive,” he whined.

“I’m the one with the Porsche,” she smirked as they stepped into the hallway.

“A Porsche you still haven’t let me drive,” he said as he locked the door. “I mean, come on, Murphy. We’ve been together how long? You gotta let me behind the wheel sometime.”

“I’ll do that thing you suggested in your last letter before I let you drive my baby,” she taunted as he took her hand. “Well, I’ll do that anyway. The Porsche is another matter.”

“God …” he chuckled. “Have I mentioned lately that I’m lucky?”

“Yeah. But you can mention it again.”

He kissed her as they came to the car. “I’m a lucky man, Murphy Brown.”

She touched his cheek. Blushing again.

***

The restaurant was packed and of course they’d lost their reservation. Between Murphy lecturing the valet and well, his inability to keep his hands off of her, it was an inevitability. But, the inconvenience of it all was erased by seeing Miles and Corky together. On what was clearly a date. That alone cracked him up, but what was funnier was that Murphy, for all of her skills of deduction, hadn’t put it together, even though she’d been the one to bring up the conversation she’d had with Corky. She’d been laughing last night as she talked to him from the bathroom, the door half open while she undressed.

_“Corky thinks there is some guy right under her nose,” she snorted. “Which makes no sense since there is no one at work who … I don’t know … fits her? Miller Redfield? God. And why do I even care? But she was in my office, screwing up my thought processes, and now it’s on my mind so you have to suffer.”_

_He really hadn’t been paying that close attention. Quite frankly, Corky was a sweet kid but he didn’t care about her love life and he was far more interested in the sheer black nightgown Murphy had emerged from the bathroom in. Her hair swept up off her face, a cloud of perfume following her._

_Someday, he’d work up the courage to ask her to marry him. Tonight though, he drew her to him, running his hands up her hips, unsure if he should press the fabric against her or just let his hands wander underneath. His cock jumped, seeking contact, and she reached between them, sliding her fingers into his boxers._

_“Since the moment I saw you …” He groaned. “I have wanted to do this. To see you like this.”_

_“I think you’re revising history a little bit,” she teased. He just reached for the laces on the nightgown, slowly undoing them. “You were pretty pissed, as I recall, that you’d seen my face when you got shot.”_

_“I was mostly pissed that I got shot, not that I saw your face. Hell, if I’d had guts it would have been …” he grinned, stroking her nipple through the fabric, “ the night you punched me. But, I was chicken.” He smirked at her. She sighed and leaned back just a bit on his lap, her eyes meeting his. Her gentle touch moved from his cock to his cheek and she stroked her fingertips down his face before leaning in to kiss him._

_“I wish you had kissed me the night I punched you,” she teased as she pulled back. It was a rare confession about the state of their relationship, and her own feelings. “If you had, I’d have taken you home with me.”_

_“Proof I’m an idiot,” Peter chuckled. “I was also pissed Miles broke the moment the day I came back, you know. In your office. I was ready to come clean with you the minute I saw you. It took me another week to work up the courage and then, it was an hour before show time.” The nightgown slipped from her shoulders. “And all I could do was kiss you. I could have done that all night.”_

_“That and,” she smirked and wiggled her fingers in front of her face, “that flutter thing?”_

_He groaned._

_She sighed and let the fabric fall to the floor. She stood there, completely naked, and Peter let himself thank the universe for giving him this gift, before sliding out of his boxers. Her eyes drifted to his cock and he stroked himself a couple of times for her. She bit her lip and raised her eyes back to his. “You …” he shook his head, bringing her back to him, placing a kiss to the juncture of her hip and torso. “If they could see the woman I see …”_

_“They’d never believe it,” she grinned, pushing him down onto his back. He took her hips and nudged her up, higher, stabilizing her as he balanced her over his face._

_“Hon?” She was laughing._

_“Hmmmm?” He was on a mission._

_“I’m gonna fall over.”_

_He laughed and let her slip away, but only so he could recline against the head of the bed and give her a place to rest against. She obliged his need to spend his life buried between her thighs, and he didn’t let her go until she was crying his name and he was so hard it hurt. She collapsed back, gasping, and he tried to keep some sense of control, but she reached over and wrapped her perfectly manicured hand around him._

_“Peter?”_

_God. “Yes, babe?”_

_“Fuck me senseless.”_

_Well. When she asked so nicely. He pulled her under him, plunging into her almost too roughly, but she held on, her nails deep in his biceps, and he thrust against her, almost blindly. She was his goddess, and he only hoped his worship of her was enough to guarantee eternal life within her temple._

_Good he was cheesy._

_Only after he’d collapsed on top of her did he remember the condoms in the bedside table. They were getting more and more lax about that, but she remained not pregnant and he wasn’t going to complain about not needing to take a few extra seconds to bury himself inside of her._

_She finally pushed at him and he chuckled, pulling back. “I’m sorry about that.”_

_“About what?” She sat up and moved over so he could stretch out._

_“Collapsing on top of you.” His mouth moved to her breast and he took her nipple between his teeth._

_What had they been talking about before she emerged from the bathroom again?_

Peter was honestly glad Miles had caught their attention. He was happy to avoid the bar. Not really for his sake, but for Murphy’s. She always put on a good front, never actively complained in front of people, but he knew just how hard it was for her to be around the smokers and the drinkers. He knew that even though she didn’t mind when he ordered a scotch with dinner, she was much more receptive to him when he’d had something non alcoholic. Sobriety was so much harder than anyone realized, and he wondered if anyone really understood it. He wondered sometimes if he did. Her jokes kept people off guard, but they didn’t see her staring at the carton of cigarettes behind the gas station counter. They didn’t run into the store late at night for her because she wasn’t sure she couldn’t trust herself in the wine section.

So, when Miles waved them over, he was more than happy to take advantage of the table. At least until he realized exactly what Murphy hadn’t yet put together. That the guy right under Corky’s nose was … Miles. Miles? Oh this was too good. Especially since … wasn’t Miles gay? Jesus. Was this weird and vaguely creepy crush thing he’d noticed at the Humboldt’s still going on? Come on, Murphy. Say something.

Not that Murphy was paying attention. She was stealing pasta from Miles while reminding him she really didn’t want to go sit in the bar. So, he leaned over.

“Remember that thing you were telling me last night?” He whispered in her ear.

Her expression said that no, she didn’t remember. They had after all been busy last night and she’d spent a lot of the evening digging crescent shaped scars into his biceps. Tonight he was tying her hands above her head and making her beg for release, for the record. He had to be in an editing bay all day tomorrow to make his deadline, so sleeping in and reading the paper wasn’t going to happen (not that it really happened with Avery ... ) but tonight he was giving himself some memories to get him through tomorrow. But first, they had to deal with Miles … and …

“Corky. And the guy under her nose…” He reminded her.

She looked at him. Looked at Miles. “No …” Peter raised his eyebrows at her. She shook her head. “You’re the guy? You’re the guy under Corky’s nose?”

The best part of the evening was in fact watching Miles try to make sense of it all. Peter went along with the joke, still trying to suss out the truth. But really, wasn’t Miles gay?

Corky chased them from the table and Peter stopped worrying about Miles and Corky and that weirdness. They were in a quiet and secluded corner of the dining room. Murphy slid her chair around so they were next to each other and he stole from her plate while she grabbed pieces from his, and it wasn’t long before he had his hand inside her sweater in the front seat of the Porsche while the moon rose over the potomac. They skipped dancing.

God he loved Saturday nights.

***

She was still catching her breath as Peter returned to bed. She watched him emerge from the bathroom, completely unabashed in his nudity, and groaned softly. She was still trying to understand how he wanted her, but she’d stopped arguing with him about it. Especially when he could do what he did to her. Jesus she’d be twitching for a week.

“I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” she teased as he slid back between the sheets, “but I can’t let you go to work tomorrow.”

“Oh?” He laughed pulling her down into his arms. “I see. That worried about a little story competition are you?”

“No,” she smirked, leaning up to kiss him. “But I’m just not inclined to let you ever get dressed again. I was okay, and then you came out of the bathroom looking like … that … and I’m pretty much convinced we can’t ever get dressed again.”

His response was to tickle her until she screamed, quickly grabbing a pillow to muffle the sound before a nosy three year old came wondering what was happening in Mommy’s room. Avery had walked in more than once, and she was absolutely sure his young mind was scarred forever. She kicked Peter away and flopped down, reaching for the light. The room clicked into darkness and she snuggled close. His fingers trailed down her arms.

“Can I ask something?” She murmured, feeling the calm of sleep starting to take her, but suddenly it was on her mind and despite how he’d spent the night worshiping her, the insecurities were starting to creep back in. Hopefully his answer would quell them.

“Better than almost anyone I know. You are, after all, the queen of the interview.”

She huffed a bit, working up the nerve. “Um … this is awkward. Especially considering the fact that feeling is still returning to my lower body …”

“Uh oh.” He held her a bit closer. “What’s up?”

“Since we ran into Corky tonight …” God, was she sixteen? This was dumb. He only had eyes for her and she knew it. And then, as always, he surprised her in the best of ways.

“You want to know why I kissed her at the Humboldt’s last year?”

She groaned and pushed her face into his shoulder. “God. Am I that obvious?”

“Sometimes,” he sighed. Murphy cuddled closer. “Okay, truth?” Another sigh. “I kissed her because she kissed me. I’m a jackass sometimes and that was one of those moments. I don’t have any other answer than that one.”

“Wait?” Murphy felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She raised her head and in the dim light from outside, met Peter’s eyes. “She kissed you first?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew that. Murphy, she threw herself at me that night and when I kissed her back, she dropped me like a hot potato. I still don’t know what happened, but she did. And I’m glad she did because I probably would have done something stupid and then we wouldn’t be here.”

“I …” Murphy pressed her fingers against her eyes, trying not to relive that night. “I only saw you kiss her. God, I feel like an idiot.”

Peter sighed. “Confession? I knew you’d seen us. Part of me was okay with you seeing it too. I’d convinced myself that you weren’t interested. I mean, I was throwing every line in the book at you, Murphy, and you weren’t biting. Maybe if I got you jealous, we could have something.”

“You were there with Corky!” She cracked up. “God. So what you’re really saying is …”

“We could have had sex the day after the Humboldts.” he teased. “When we hung in your office.”

“You really have a thing for my office,” she teased.

“So do you.” He laughed. “How did that lock break on your door again?”

She giggled. “Oh, you mean the time I got pregnant? Yeah, well.” Sleep was starting to claim them both and Murphy pulled away just enough to settle her head on the pillow, but her legs remained twined with his. “How did the door break in my office again?”

His hand moved lazily up her bare back. “I shoved you against it while you were gasping my name in between begging me to go harder.”

“Blunt, Peter.” She tweaked his nipple. Suddenly, she felt so much lighter.

“True, Murphy.”

“Go to sleep,” she murmured. “Hey, Peter?”

“Hmmmm?” He grunted at her.

“Isn’t it funny Corky likes Miles? I mean … doesn’t she know he’s gay?”

The laugh rumbled through Peter’s chest and she giggled into the vibrations. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I thought I was the only one who knew.”

She snickered. “God, Monday’s gonna be a hassle. Corky’s gonna want to talk about it.”

“Worry about that Monday, Murphy.” He rolled, slightly, spooning around her. She pressed back into him and kicked one foot out from the sheets. “Go to sleep.”

She sighed and cuddled into his arms. Her only regret was that he had to work tomorrow.


End file.
